Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Derek watched Reese, arching and bumping up against his fingers, forcing him deeper.
She was like whipped cream, pale and soft and sweet, not the least bit healthy for him but too damn good to pass up.
His throat was tight, his cock hard, as she pressed forward in impatience, gray-green eyes glazed with desire.
He was burning in his jeans, a sheen of sweat covering him as he fought with himself to stay sane and not plunge himself into her. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t have a condom. A tiny fear niggled at him that once he was in her, he wasn’t going to be able to leave.
So much for the matter-of-fact approach to getting his envelope back.
An hour after arriving at her hotel, and here he found himself with her naked in his arms, bucking on his fingers like a rodeo rider. He stopped moving and let her take over, raising up and down, a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t one bit shy about getting it.
That turned him on, set him panting, but it was a dangerous thing, too, letting his guard down. He’d been there, done that, had the fucking T-shirt. He’d promised himself this time around if he ever got involved with another woman he was going to take it slow.
Reese had already challenged that vow.
“Damn, Reese, you don’t even need me, do you?” It didn’t bother him, quite the opposite. “Just keep fucking my finger, baby.”
She had established her own rhythm, her breathing ragged and quick, her hips rocking her onto his two fingers, the air sweet and heavy with the earthy smell of her body.
The fit of her around him was snug, moist, and when he pulled his fingers apart into a V, she shuddered, head rolling back, auburn hair tumbling over plump lips.
“I do need you,” she said.
That pleased him so much he added a third finger, a tight pulsing stretching of her that had them both moaning into each other’s mouths. He held the back of her head, hand slipping in her soft heat, keeping her lips against his while he stilled his fingers, feeling her inner muscles clenching.
“You’re going to come.”
“No,” she shook her head in denial.
“Yes, you are.”
Another shudder sent her shoulders twitching. “No, I can handle it.”
“It’s not too much for you?” He pulled one finger back.
She sagged against him. “No, it’s not too much.”
“Good. No bigger than my cock, is it?”
Reese started moving again, her curvy bare chest leaning against his while she got herself off on his fingers. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen your cock.”
He laughed softly. She constantly surprised him. “You want the other finger back?”
Licking her lips back and forth, leaning over to suck on her neck gently, he still held her head, twirling that hair around his hand, wanting to hold her there for a very long time.
“I don’t care, it’s up to you.”
Reese was a very good liar, but Derek wasn’t buying her feigned nonchalance. “Then I want it back in.”
When he pushed inside her, she came on a low moan, her eyes opening to lock with his as she rode out her pleasure. He kept his fingers in place, let her feel him filling her as she jerked in his arms with rigid shudders.
It was long, tight, her nails raking down his chest as she enjoyed the orgasm with little pants of pleasure. Derek enjoyed it nearly as much, the way she held onto him, the way her thighs clenched, and the way her moist inner muscles vibrated on his fingers.
“Told you you were going to come.”
Her forehead landed on his shoulder as she murmured, “For once I don’t mind being wrong.”
When he slid out of her, she sighed, and Derek wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, breathing in her sweet scent. Then he kissed the top of her head, in a move that startled them both.
It was too intimate, too caring for what they were doing here—which was a little casual sex. Yet he didn’t feel casual, he was having too much fun to call it that. Reese interested him way more than just about any woman who had come into his life in the past two years.
Which scared the shit out of him.
Had the chicken wings been laced with a love potion? Christ, he was acting like an idiot.
He did not know this woman. He had no reason to trust her. For all he knew, she was planning to kick him in his bad knee, steal the Delco evidence along with every dollar in his wallet, take his gun, and hit the highway.
The smart thing to do would be to distance himself from her, not get closer. Not kiss her on the head like a boyfriend would.
Get out while he could, take his evidence and his pride and forget he’d ever had the misfortune to glimpse her long luscious legs.
Then she unzipped his jeans and slipped a delicate soft hand inside his briefs, giving him a long stroke with cool fingers. He forgot that leaving would be the best thing to do in this situation.
He forgot that he shouldn’t trust her.
Hell, he forgot his own damn name.